Losing Gabriel by Lurlene McDaniel Page A

community college. Dawson knew his dad was attempting to help, but no way could he think about his impending fatherhood plus classes, studying, and holding down a job. In truth, not much
was
helping him during this long hot summer of Sloan’s pregnancy. Gone was the fun they once had together. She was moody and temperamental, but the good news was that they rarely argued. That would have required talking to each other. He kept reminding himself that he
loved
this girl—didn’t he? Still he was unhappy, angry, and scared. And yet watching her belly expand, feeling the baby kick when he lay beside her in bed, was a head trip.
    The baby, seen only in sonograms, had a human shape in shades of gray. Once, the image caught the fetus sucking its thumb. They also learned it was a boy. All the little guy had to do was gain more weight, turn his head downward into the birth canal, and be born in mid-September. All Dawson had to do was figure out how to take care of his…what? Family?
    He wished he could talk to his mother. Would she be heartbroken over what was happening? Would she like Sloan? Would she still love
him
? Endless unanswerable questions. Another hamster wheel.

    Sloan was sharing the guest room with a crib and a changing table. Dawson and Franklin had painted the walls pale blue, set up a dark wood crib, and draped a blue baby blanket over the railing. She usually slept in the room’s double bed but would sometimes venture down to Dawson’s bed and the comfort of his arms. Most of the time, she felt bewildered and disconnected, unable to get her head around the idea that a living human being would emerge from her body and that she would instantly turn into a mother.
    She rarely left the house. She had no car. She spent hours writing music, playing her guitar, remembering how great the world looked from a stage with a view of an audience clapping and shouting her name. Life wasn’t turning out the way she’d planned. Dawson said he loved her many times. She wanted to love him. But her head wouldn’t stop filling with memories of the things she had always wanted. Her bright spot was separation from her mother.
    LaDonna came around occasionally, usually during her noon lunch hour if she was in town working. Not wanting to listen to LaDonna’s plans about Sloan and the baby moving in with her, Sloan never answered the door before two o’clock. She was stacking clothes from the dryer one July morning after Dawson and Franklin had gone for the day when the doorbell started to chime and wouldn’t quit. This early, she figured it wasn’t LaDonna. She went to the door and threw it open to a flood of sunlight and to Jarred Tester standing on the porch.
    Stunned, she backpedaled, looking for shadows to cover her. When she found her voice, she said, “Go away.”
    “Can we talk?”
    A rush of heat flushed through her. “Go. Away.”
    “Please, Sloan. Just let me talk to you. I’ll leave as soon as I do.” Boldly he tried the screen door handle. It wasn’t locked. She pushed back, but he pushed it open, reached in, and caught her wrist. “We can sit on the porch. In plain sight. I haven’t come to scare you.” His voice was soft, non-threatening. He tugged her gently into the sunlight. “I just want to talk.”
    She was powerless against the pull of him and followed him to the wicker chairs at the far end of the porch. He turned and took both her hands in his, his eyes assessing her, widening as he took in her expanded belly. She felt humiliated. “Please leave.” She couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked different now, more polished, and slimmer, with an expensive haircut and clothes that fit his toned, muscled body perfectly.
    “Not till I say what I want to say.” Jarred gentled her into a chair and then took the one across from her, a small wicker table between them. He didn’t let go of her hand. “You look—”
    “I know what I look like, so forget any lies you’re going to tell.” She